


Mistakes Made, Mistakes Fixed

by calenlily



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance, Season/Series 03, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-12
Updated: 2008-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calenlily/pseuds/calenlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 3 Rewrite. We all know that the happiness clause was an idiotic idea; what if the Powers That Be actually realized this and fixed their mistakes for once? Lots of fluff, lots of drama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Behind the Scenes

_Prologue: Same Time as the End of Faith, Hope, and Trick_

In a place outside of space and time (though most easily accessible from under the LA Post Office), two higher beings were arguing.

“He is a Champion, one of the greatest warriors for our cause. There is no sense in leaving him to waste away in a Hell dimension where he is no good to anyone,” the female said. “We have a conduit; it would be a simple enough matter to bring him back.” As she spoke, a silver ring flashed into her hand.

“It is not our place to interfere,” the male Oracle insisted. “This is a matter of lower beings and will sort itself out.”

His sister looked at him in disbelief. “It will sort itself out? That dimension is sealed. If we leave him, you know we’re losing the Warrior. And the other as well, for the Chosen One is slowly destroying herself without her other half. It is terribly wasteful to lose two Champions solely from your aversion to intervening when necessary.”

“Very well,” the male replied. “You may bring the Warrior back, but you are _not_ interfering with his soul. You meddle entirely too much in the natural order of the world, sister.”

“I intervene only when it is critical. You seem to think we are only here to watch as everything falls apart. It is our duty to ensure the Powers’ plan runs smoothly, to avert disaster when affairs left alone would be catastrophic. To leave the Warrior’s soul as it is would be to invite another disaster like the past months,” she argued.

“The Warrior is not unintelligent. He would not allow such a thing to happen again,” he countered.

“Perhaps,” the female Oracle conceded. “But the Champions would still be separated as surely as if we took no action.”

“What of it? That is merely a matter of the heart, and as such is not our concern,” her brother said dismissively.

“You underestimate such affairs, brother,” she said. “But that is no matter. This is no mere matter of the heart; it is a matter of souls. The Warrior and the Chosen One are true soulmates: the whole is far greater than the sum of its parts. Together they are strong, alone they are weak – if not dead. Just see what the Chosen One has been doing to herself. See the condition the Warrior was in before he met her. They will destroy themselves if we do not act. And these are two of our strongest Champions we are speaking of. We need them, and we need them together. That Hellmouth has become overly volatile. Their combined strength is necessary to prevent cataclysmic or even apocalyptic occurrences.”

“Very well, do whatever you deem necessary,” the male finally said, conceding defeat. He sighed. Somehow, his sister always seemed to win these sorts of things.

The female smiled, and held up the ring in her golden hand. It flashed brightly for a moment as her power was channeled through it, and a second later a tormented ensouled vampire appeared in front of the Oracles.


	2. Chapter One: A New Hope

_After "Amends"_

They walked through the streets in the dim light of the clouded morning, marveling at the softly falling snow. Neither of them dared say a word, almost as if they feared it wasn’t real and breaking the silence would make the miracle disappear.

A TV was on in the window of the Sun Cinema, and as they passed, a weathercaster took over the screen, her voice resonating in the still morning. “And while most of Southern California is enjoying a balmy Christmas, an extreme cold front has sprung up out of nowhere around Sunnydale, where they are reporting heavy snowfall for the first time in, well, ever. Sunnydale residents shouldn't expect to see the sun at all today. That cold front isn't going anywhere….” Even this storm would not block the sun enough to make the day safe, but it would certainly dim it enough to buy them maybe half an hour. More than enough time to get home, without any rush.

By the time they reached the mansion, there was a thin layer of snow coating the ground. Buffy leaned down and scooped up a handful of the wet powder, letting it slip through her fingers. “Miracle,” she murmured. “_Our_ miracle….” She trailed off, then added as an afterthought, “I’ve never actually seen snow before.”

She brushed her hands off, and he could see her shivering.

“You okay?” Angel asked.

“Just a bit chilly,” she replied. “I was dressed for actual _California_ weather, not … this.”

He motioned her into the mansion before him. She settled herself on one side of the couch, and watched as he knelt in front of the hearth and built up a fire. “There,” he said as he sat down across from her. “That should make you feel better.”

“Thanks.” She flashed a grateful smile.

They fell silent, and for a moment just looked at each other, suddenly awkward and unsure what to say.

“So…,” she began lamely.

“So,” he parroted.

She sighed, gathered her courage, and stepped valiantly onto what was likely to be a verbal minefield. “Are we going to give the whole ‘us’ thing another try? Cuz, we already tried the avoidance method, and, all things considered, I think we can write that one off as a failure.”

He laughed ruefully. “No, that didn’t go too well, did it? We can try to make a relationship work out. Maybe I’m being selfish to agree, but God, Buffy, I don’t know what to do without you with me. We just have to be careful.”

“Right. Careful,” she echoed softly, sadly.

Silence fell again, but this time it was more comfortable. Buffy crawled across the couch and nestled against Angel, letting out a small sigh of contentment.

Eventually, Angel broke the silence. “You know,” he said, “I think you might have been right.”

“Of course I was. Don’t you know, I’m always right,” she joked. “…No really, what about?”

“Maybe it wasn’t the First who brought me back. I think – I think I just remembered something,” he replied.

“Remembered something?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “When… I was in Hell….”

Buffy winced at the mention, and didn’t meet his eyes. _That_ he had to put a stop to.

“Buffy.” He turned her face towards him. “Buffy, don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not your fault. You did what you had to.”

“I can’t help it,” she said. “I still did it to you. Knowing that I caused you that pain – And when you came back, you were so….”

“Shh,” he cut her off. “But I did come back. What’s done is done. Leave it in the past, and stop blaming yourself.”

She gave him a shaky smile. “I’ll try.” She paused, then asked abruptly, “What was it you were starting to say before?”

“Oh, uh,” he tried to recall, then shook his head, having lost his nerve. “It was nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

She was not convinced. Her eyes narrowed, and she shot him a dangerous look. “Angel.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” he tried.

“Nice try. What aren’t you telling me?” Damn, he wasn’t going to get out of this easily, was he?

He looked at her. She looked at him. He sighed, realizing it would be most prudent to tell her.

“It’s hard to remember exactly what happened … I wasn’t exactly in my right mind,” he began haltingly.

“Yes?” she prompted. “Come on, story time!”

He bit back a laugh at her childishly eager expression. She had softened as soon as he began speaking, and now she had cuddled up to him and was staring up at him with adoring puppy eyes. She could be so juvenile sometimes, really. It was … refreshing. With all that she’d had to face, she’d been forced to grow up so fast, and at times he worried that she would become hardened by the things she’d seen. He couldn’t bear for that to happen to such a pure, vibrant spirit. He gave in to the temptation to drop a kiss to her lips, then continued with his recollections.

“I was in Hell – and then, suddenly, I wasn’t. It was the oddest thing. Everything was black, and I was falling – and then I landed in here. But – now that I think about it – I think there was something in between there. I’d forgotten before. It was … I think it was another dimension. It was this chamber, a great hall, that seemed to stretch on forever. It was all light – no visible source, light just seemed to permeate the place. And there were these two … beings. They said they were bringing me back, that I had a duty to fulfill. …They called me _Champion_. …I think – I think they said my soul was bound!”

Buffy gasped. “But that’s, that’s –” she stammered incredulously, then exclaimed as it truly hit her, “That’s great!” She turned to him. “Who were these guys?” she demanded.

“I’m not sure. They were like nothing I’ve ever seen. Human form, but blue, with gold veins … or was it gold with blue veins? Dressed in togas. One male and one female. And they gave this feeling, just this … aura of immense power.”

“We have to look these guys up!” Buffy urged.

He nodded, because it was important to know, but he wasn’t sure it changed as much as she seemed to think it did. She was so excited….

“If they’re trustworthy – I have to go to the library –” she suddenly cut herself off. “No,” she said murmured. “Not yet. Not now.”

“What?” he asked with concern.

“Nothing,” she replied softly. “Just, I don’t want to leave yet. I don’t want to leave you this morning."

“Oh.” He drew her into his arms, and she relaxed against him.

But suddenly she sat bolt upright, cursing under her breath. “Damnit, I can’t do either! I can’t believe I forgot!”

“What?” he asked again.

“I left Mom and Faith at home – in a hurry and promising explanations later. They’re still waiting for me,” she explained frustratedly.

“Go,” he said. “You have to do what you have to do.”

“I know,” she whined. “But I don’t _want_ to leave.” She got to her feet, then went back for a goodbye kiss. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I love you.” He reveled in the freedom to say the words.

“I love you.”

***

The day after Christmas found Buffy right back in the library. She strode through the doors and announced, “Okay, here’s the sitch: Gold people – well, people-like thingies – with blue veins. Toga party dress. Possibly from another dimension. Who are they, and can they be trusted?”

“My, Buffy, you’ve certainly become invested in research lately,” Giles commented.

Buffy just _looked_ at him.

“Uh, yes, that description does sound vaguely familiar,” the Watcher continued. “I’ll see what I can find.” He turned back to the stacks, running a hand over the spines of the books as he searched for some title. “May I ask what prompted this sudden interest?” he asked casually.

The Slayer instantly turned uncomfortable. “You know me, I’m a regular research girl,” she said brightly, hoping that would pass for an answer.

Giles turned back towards her. “_Buffy._”

“Well, uh … see,” she stammered, then took a deep breath and said very fast, “Angel and I were walking back after it started snowing yesterday, and then he thought he remembered something from when he was brought back. He was in, like, maybe another dimension, and these funky gold guys were there, and then they sent him back here. And we think they said his soul was bound – like it couldn’t be lost again. And that’s good, isn’t it, ‘cuz it would mean less danger. But we need to know for sure, because what if they were lying, and that would be bad….”

If Buffy hadn’t been so nervous, she might have been amused by the way Giles started cleaning his glasses in nervous reflex the moment she mentioned Angel’s name. He listened carefully to her story, looking like he wasn’t sure whether to be completely shocked or expecting something of this nature.

“Buffy,” he said, uncharacteristically curt, “he does not seem to be in any danger. You know what my feelings about Angel are. Don’t you think you’re being a bit –?”

“I’m being a bit? I’m being a _lot_.” Buffy sighed heavily. “I _know_ I am. I get irrational when he’s involved, okay? I can’t help it.”

She faltered. Finally, she added in a small voice, “I’ve lost him so many times already. If I lose him again, I think I might break. And he never deserved any of this, either. Can I have just a little bit of help here? Please, do it for me?”

Giles looked at the young woman who had become like a daughter to him, and found himself unable to refuse. “Very well then. I’ll see what I can find.”

Buffy gave him a shaky smile. “Thank you.”


	3. Chapter Two: What, You Really Thought It'd Be That Easy?

Giles came through with the knowledge, of course. By the next time she came in to the library, he had an entry marked for her in one of his tomes, complete with a sketch.

_Oracles, The:_

_Auxiliaries of the Powers That Be. Known to speak for the Powers, and to put in a hand in shaping Fate. Their dimension can be accessed by true Champions, and gaining an audience requires the proper rituals and presentation of an offering._

“Wow,” Buffy commented. “Surprisingly straightforward and non-posture-y. …Maybe because it’s not something I have to fight. Cause, ya know, whenever something apocalyptic and action-requiring is around, there’s only ever the same two or three unhelpful statements in every book.”

Giles was scowling at her. She wasn’t sure whether it was for the rambling or because she’d maligned his precious books. She flashed her brightest smile. “I know, I know, I’m being tiresome. You don’t know why you put up with me. That about it?”

She was right on in her assessment, she knew she was, he was just being too British to admit it.

“I take it this was what you were looking for?” the Watcher asked stiffly.

“Seems to fit the profile,” she said. “I’ll double-check with Angel, of course.”

Giles tried to stifle his disapproving look, she gave him credit for that. She noticed anyway. And she wasn’t about to put up with his squeamishness.

“What?” she asked defensively.

“I thought you assured me less than a week ago that you weren’t seeing Angel anymore,” he said. “This doesn’t sound much like you’ve ceased to associate with him.”

“Yes, we’re back together. I know you’re not happy about it, and I’m sorry I have to be going against you. But I make my own decisions, and I have my reasons, and I don’t want to get into it right now.”

She knew she was only delaying an inevitable confrontation. But she really didn’t want to have that conversation just now. For once she had _good_ news, and she wasn’t about to let Giles spoil her good mood.

She breezed out of the library, calling after her, “Thanks for the research.”

***

She practically skipped into the mansion.

“Buffy.” Angel looked up from his reading at her none-too-quiet approach.

“Hey there,” she greeted, settling herself in his lap. “Looks like those funky blue guys you found were legit.”

She could almost see as it hit him. _Ah. That explains her cheerful mood._ But his curiosity was piqued. “Really?” he asked.

“Yep,” she chirped. “The Oracles. They’re, like, overseers for the higher powers or something. So sayeth the all-knowing library of the Giles.” After a moment, she added, “If you like, I can show you the bio. The book’s even got a mug shot.”

“Sounds good,” he agreed absently. Knowing him, he probably would check. Not that he didn’t trust her to know what she was talking about, but he was the type who had to confirm everything himself.

“Great!” she said. “You know, this is all working out so perfectly. It’s almost like _before_.” She didn’t have to explain before what, it was obvious to both of them. She didn’t think she could feel any more happy and hopeful than this. Sure, there were issues remaining still, but none of that felt like it mattered much anymore. “It’s like the Powers finally decided we need a break.”

She waited for his assent. When it didn’t come after a minute or two, she frowned. Angel was being all distant on her.

Well, one way to fix that. She twisted on his lap, repositioning herself so she was straddling him. Then she leaned forward and kissed him, hungrily, passionately. It had been far too long since they’d been allowed to do this. But now, finally, there was no more fear, no more limitations.

On that note, she twisted her body a little more, and rubbed herself against him. _So good, so good, too long denied and how could I ever live without this?_

What she wasn’t expecting was for him too grab her shoulders gently but firmly, effectively stopping her. “Buffy.”

“What?” she whined. She couldn’t see any reason for the sudden step back. It wasn’t like he wasn’t enjoying it – considering their positions, that much was blatantly obvious.

She would have been quite offended at the sudden rebuff, but as it was, her complete confusion overshadowed even that.

“I’m sorry,” Angel said. “I just don’t think we should rush into things too fast.”

She pouted. Wasn’t a year long enough to have to wait? She knew better than to say _that_, of course, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit petulant.

He placed a hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I’m not saying no,” he said gently. “God knows I want…. Just – take things slow. What we’ve found out is good news. But it doesn’t change everything. We still have issues to deal with. Okay?”

She seriously resented him for saying that – mostly because he was absolutely right. They were experts at growing issues. And she knew her friends would take it badly enough just that she and Angel were together again, never mind anything else. (Now there was a conversation she was seriously not looking forward to. She was half-afraid they would make another scene like they did with that whole ‘intervention’ thing they pulled when they first discovered Angel was back from Hell and she was protecting him.)

Fine, so she saw the wisdom in this. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. Yes, Buffy and frustrated were old friends – and she was fucking tired of it. She could deal, at least for a while longer, but she damn sure wasn’t going to be happy about the necessity of it.

“Fine,” she conceded. “I guess I can do slow. But I’ll be lodging a formal complaint with the office of ‘it’s not fair’. I mean, you’re like the new, improved, Angel 2.0, now with 100% less soul-lossage. We ought to be able to enjoy,” she quipped, half in serious complaint, half back to light-hearted joking.

She actually managed to provoke a laugh from him for that one. And better yet, he indulged her (or maybe that wasn’t quite an accurate representation) with a kiss. A _good_ kiss, not a guarded, guiltily stolen one like those that had been all they had for months. Maybe this wouldn’t be quite so bad after all.

***

It was so bad after all.

She walked into the library on the third day after Christmas (and she was amazed so little time had passed; everything seemed to be happening so fast) flanked by her friends.

Willow was telling the tale of her botched attempt at Oz-seduction. She was making a big deal of the embarrassment factor, but the petite redhead was glowing to such an extent that they all knew she was only playing it up for dramatic effect; she was far too happy at the relationship’s renewal to be truly bothered. The three friends were all having a good laugh over it (though Xander was not doing a very good job of hiding a bit of jealousy, but that was typical Xander, and at least he was trying). Buffy only wished her own relationship news could be taken half so well. She knew that was a futile hope.

That fact that she was thinking of that just then was, Buffy was convinced, proof that the PTB had a twisted sense of humor. For a bare moment later, they walked through the library’s doors, and Xander asked, “Hey, what’s Deadboy doing here?”

She looked up, and sure enough Angel was sitting at one of the library tables, closing a book she recognized as the one Giles found the info on the Oracles for her in.

She broke away from her friends and walked over to him as he returned the book to its shelf.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Confirming the diagnosis?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. I was just on my way out.”

“Probably wise,” she commented. “I have a feeling I’m about to face the Scooby Inquisition on your behalf.”

He looked concerned. “Want me to stick around?”

“Thanks for the heroic offer, but nah. I can deal,” she replied. “I’ll drop by your place before patrol?”

“Sounds good,” he agreed.

He turned to leave, but she caught his arm. “Kiss for luck?” she asked sweetly, tilting her head up towards him. He granted the requested kiss.

“See you later,” she said, drifting back to her friends as Angel left the library.

She could see from their expressions that it was going to be, as she’d feared, ‘intervention’ mark two.

“And I repeat, what’s Deadboy doing here?” Xander said, turning accusingly to Buffy. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

Willow at least tried to be polite. “Look, we’re all happy he’s not dead and all. But, I’m sorry, Buffy, do you really think it’s a good idea…?” She trailed off apologetically.

Xander bluntly picked up where she’d left off. “We don’t want you getting all snugly with your demon lover cuz we don’t want to be on the menu when he goes all psycho killer again.”

It was one comment too many. She’d been dealing with blind, prejudiced comments for nearly a year (and longer on Xander’s part), and by now she’d had it up to here with the snide comments. Buffy was many things, but renowned for her patience was not one of them. Furthermore, she was determined to do things her way, which meant Angel was going to be around, and everyone else was going to have to deal with it. Bolstered by the knowledge that she had ample justification this time, she flat-out snapped.

“Don’t you guys even try to understand?!” she shouted. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Giles emerge from his office at her raised voice. _Good,_ she thought, _he needs to hear this too._ “We’re not helpless slaves to passion. I would – _neither_ of us would ever knowingly endanger you guys. No one could have foreseen what would happen last year. Do you have so little trust that you think we’d let it happen again? Consider this. It was my fault Angelus got free last year. It was my fault I wasn’t able to stop him before I did. I feel guilty about everything he did. And you really think I would be careless?” She looked bitterly around the room, and the others were suddenly reminded of the time the previous year when she’d dropped a church on Spike and Drusilla, declaring ‘you can attack me, you can send assassins after me, but no one messes with my boyfriend’. This was the same girl, and she was dangerous when roused.

Eyes flashing, she continued her tirade. “But, you know, I don’t even think that’s your problem. I think it’s more that you don’t understand one simple fact: _Angel is not Angelus._ Get that into your heads! I’d understand if you had a little trouble getting used to the difference, but you haven’t even tried. You haven’t so much as given him one ounce of even benefit of the doubt. Angelus was a sadistic bastard, and I hate him as much as any of you. Everything he did was calculated to hurt _me_, and it did. He hurt me more than anyone else – except perhaps Giles.” For a moment, she turned and spoke directly to her Watcher, “I recognize what you’ve suffered, and I’d be willing to cut you some slack for that – only, you’re the one who has all the books and knows all the theory and stuff, so you, out of everyone, ought to know this already.”

She turned back to the group at large. “Angelus was evil, but Angel is good. And Angel is the one who’s suffering because of this. He doesn’t need to deal with your small-mindedness on top of everything else. I know he won’t call you on it, but I damn well will. I’m not putting up with your vilifying him anymore. Understand that Angelus is never coming back – we just confirmed that; the curse is different since Angel came back from Hell. And stop blaming Angel for things that aren’t his fault!”

“What, so you guys are just going to go make with the happies now?” Xander asked harshly.

“Actually, we’re trying to take things slow. One of the main reasons being that we knew you guys wouldn’t be comfortable with it,” Buffy snapped back. “But, you know, maybe we shouldn’t have bothered.”

Casting a disgusted look at her friends, she stalked out of the library. She could only hope she’d still have a friend left tomorrow. (Although just now, in the heat of the moment, she was finding it rather hard to really care. And damn had it felt good to get that off her chest.)


	4. Chapter Three: Amour Vincit Omnia?

_Early January_

When school restarted, they began reading _Canterbury Tales_ in English. Buffy paid about as much attention as she ever did – i.e. not a whole lot.

So she was spacing out as her teacher dissected the introduction of the travelers, pointing out the hidden ironies and subtle cynicism apparent from the details provided about each character.

Yet somehow she happened to take note of the analysis of the Nun’s description. “Her pin, ‘_amour vincit omnia_,’ is Latin for ‘love conquers all’. This is one of Chaucer’s subtle ways of poking fun at the state of the Church; it’s hardly the most appropriate slogan for someone supposed to be pledged to a life of chastity. Notice also her clothes…,” Ms. Murray explained.

And then Buffy lost track of the class again. But the one phrase stuck in her mind. “Love conquers all.” What a cliché! How many times had she heard that phrase thrown about?

She laughed mirthlessly. Not only was it an overused axiom of very little substance, it was dead wrong.

If only it were that simple, she thought wistfully. Love was the easy part. It didn’t stop the obstacles that life inevitably threw up.

A year ago, she might have – no, would have – believed it. She envied her younger self that naivety. She thought she’d lost her innocence when she became the Slayer. She didn’t know how horribly mistaken she was until her remaining comfortable illusions were ripped away and her world turned upside down a second time.

By now, though, she’d learned all too well that love doesn’t conquer all. It didn’t conquer a thing, only caused more complications. Take it from one whose curse it was to love too much, too desperately.

(_“Do you love me?”_

_“I love you. I don’t know if I trust you.”_)

When it came down to it, the world doesn’t give a damn about love, she reflected. No amount of love could stop issues from arising, and it took lots of other qualities to break them down. Loving did about as much good as wishing when it came to facing the challenges of the real world. (Possibly less; she thought she’d once heard Giles mention something about wish-granting demons.)

(_“Am I a thing worth saving, huh? Am I a righteous man? The world wants me gone!”_

_“What about me? I love you so much... And I tried to make you go away... I killed you and it didn't help. And I hate it! I hate that it's so hard... and that you can hurt me so much. I know everything that you did, because you did it to me. Oh, God! I wish that I wished you dead. I don't. I can't.”_)

After all, if love truly had such miraculous powers, the past year wouldn’t have been such misery. Finding pleasure on her last birthday wouldn’t have resulted in such catastrophic aftermath. She wouldn’t have been forced to send Angel to Hell and to spend the next months running from her ghosts and trying to forget her previous life. They wouldn’t have spent the time after his miraculous return denying their feelings, fearful of themselves and each other. They wouldn’t have so many issues between them that, even now, after the revelations of Christmas, they were half-terrified to try and move forward again. Said revelations would actually have _changed_ something. She wouldn’t be unable to look Giles in the eye when she asked for research help to attempt to make things right, or scared to tell her friends of her renewed relationship with Angel, knowing they would react with hurried, harsh judgment.

…On the other hand, maybe she was being a little harsh. (Blame it on frustration. She hated ‘slow’. Always had.) Remembering that renewed hope that had come since Christmas, in spite of all the challenges still ahead, maybe love did count for something. Sure, there was no quick fix. It didn’t stop obstacles from blocking the way, but it could provide a reason to break them down, the strength to keep fighting the problems life threw at you.

Maybe that’s what it really meant. Maybe she’d been a bit hasty in her condemnation. …Or maybe it really was the insipid scrap of ‘conventional wisdom’ she initially took it for. But if she could get a little wisdom from it, then that was all the better, surely. She just needed to remember not to despair. Now more than ever, there was still reason to hope.

(_“Forever. That’s the whole point.”_)

***

As it turned out, Buffy plus Angel plus taking things slow wasn’t a very successful combination. The taking it slow policy was strained from day one. Every day was fighting the ever-growing pull of temptation. Which they probably should have been able to guess beforehand, only they’d been trying to avoid thinking of that sort of thing. If there was one thing the two of them were experts at, it was denial. (Or, ya know, there was that whole demon-killing thing too.)

In a way she was almost amazed at how much they got through. Particularly her nearly getting burned at the stake; that was definitely provoking of panic and loss of control in reunion relief.

In the end, though, it took less than two weeks for their resolve to break down. There wasn’t even any big drama, just an ordinary night after coming back from patrol. That first time was best described as a mistake. Not that it was _wrong_. But they’d been trying to avoid rushing ahead like that. But ‘we really shouldn’t’ proved not to be nearly as effective a reason to stop as ‘there could be cataclysmic consequences’ had been, and too soon all restraint was lost.

They were hanging out at the mansion, something they’d been doing for a little while to try to get comfortable around each other again. (Not that either of them honestly believed comfortable was coming, but that was pretty much numbered among the facts they did their best to ignore.)

She was laying back on one end of the couch, messing with her hair. He was sitting on the other side, reading something or other assuredly very old in a language that may or may not have been English but she wouldn’t be able to understand either way.

And then she looked up at precisely the wrong moment to find him watching her with such blatant hunger that she couldn’t help but shiver under the scrutiny – and feel her body burst into flame in response. She fought to remain calm, to not betray her involuntary response. But the battle was lost almost before it began.

That was it. A glance, a touch, too many, and they were falling out of control and into passion once more.

***

The next morning, though, was another thing entirely. She woke slow and confusedly, the awkward situation at once familiar and so different.

And her joy to find him still with her! She hadn’t realized until then that she’d half-expected him to be gone. Sure, she knew intellectually that he couldn’t turn again, but subconsciously she couldn’t quite believe it, and her heart was still scared.

As always, he knew her far too well, and understood exactly what was worrying her.

“It’s okay," he soothed her. “You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m not going anywhere. I _can’t_ leave you.”

She clung to him, looked up with teary green eyes. “I know that,” she replied. “I just don’t know how to trust to it. I’ve spent so long being scared, I don’t know how to convince myself it can be alright now.”

He didn’t have a reply to that. Nothing but time could heal some wounds. But it killed him inside to see her hurting and not be able to help her, and even more to know he was responsible for this scar on her soul. He wished he could promise never to hurt her again, but he’d been around long enough to know there was no way to guarantee that. Instead, he just held her tighter.

That morning, they gave themselves to each other – a comfort, a promise, a dedication. It wasn’t nearly enough to heal the wounds between them, they had no illusions about that, but it was a start. And the rest, they knew now, they would work out together.

The first time was a mistake, though not one to be regretted. But the second time … the second was absolution.


	5. Chapter Four: A Reprieve

Those were the good days. Months, actually, as January gave way to February and their happy bubble remained unbroken. It felt almost like _before_, even (for that’s how she’d termed it in her mind: simply _before_, no elaboration necessary, for even now that things were so much better, she didn’t like to think about everything that had happened between her 17th birthday and this past Christmas if she could possibly help it).

Actually, it was quite possibly better than before. If they’d both lost some innocence since then, they’d also gained in maturity. This time around, their eyes were wide open. No more naivety, but a return to lightheartedness and hope. Plus, this time they were past the agony of unresolved sexual tension that had plagued them as they slowly approached the point of no return. She definitely had the experience now to say that the substitution of intimacy for frustration made a relationship considerably more satisfying.

But that wasn’t the point. It wasn’t all about the sex. (No, really!) She rediscovered just how much he was her anchor, as he rediscovered just how much she was his reason for fighting, indeed his reason for being. In time, they made considerable progress towards exorcising their personal demons.

Oh, it was far from perfect. Their life lacked the ability to be free of demons, danger, or drama. They faced the Council’s attempt to incapacitate her on her 18th birthday, and a demon clan’s attempt to open the Hellmouth and bring on the Apocalypse, because of course life never lacked for excitement in Sunnydale. She struggled with school, college admissions, and keeping up her social life. He struggled to regain her friends’ acceptance.

And yet…. And yet it was almost quiet, almost peaceful, by their terms. And yet they were happy in their little fragment of the world. And yet it actually seemed for once as if everything would work out just fine for them.

These were the moments she was learning to savor; little, everyday, moments that reminded her that in some ways, life really was good.

This particular afternoon was a sparring session. For the most part, sparring was simply a rote part of her training, and one of the lamer ones at that. Sure, she got the whole drill about keeping herself honed and building her combat skills and all that. But she failed to see much of a point when her opponents were generally exponentially weaker and unable to hold out for more than a few minutes at best.

However, sparring with Angel was always an exhilarating game. Not only was it refreshing to go up against someone who was pretty much an even match for her, but there was a particular rush from the way the whole Slayer/vampire thing set her instincts screaming, she reflected.

A moment later, she realized now really wasn’t the best time for reflective thinking, as she twisted and rolled to narrowly escape being pinned. _Not that that would be so unpleasant._ She mentally thwapped herself for thinking such things – this was no more an appropriate time for being horny than it was for reflection – and forced herself to concentrate once more on the sparring.

Nearly pinned for what was at least the third time in this little interlude, she twisted slightly to the side, and flipped their positions. She broke away to dive for the picnic spread laid out on a side table, snatched up a baguette, and rolled back. She pressed her advantage and, in an instant, she was crouched over Angel with the baguette positioned directly over his heart.

Even as she was still panting for breath, she smirked in victory. “Gotcha! Right through the heart. Satisfied?”

Except a moment later they were a little closer together, and she could feel his hardness pressing against her, and suddenly it wasn’t such a game. Angel’s response came low and husky, “I’m not sure ‘satisfied’ is quite the right word.”

“Oh, it’s not? That mean you’re up for another workout?” Buffy asked suggestively. Inwardly, her smirk grew wider. This would be the _other_ reason she enjoyed sparring with Angel.

He gave her that sexy half-smile of his in response. “Depends what kind of ‘workout’ you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what kind.”

He grinned wolfishly. “You offering, lover?”

She smirked back. “Of course.”

***

Buffy smiled as she moved in the middle of the dance floor. Every once in a while, it was nice to cut loose, to allow herself to be wild. It really took away from the stress of always having to be a good girl, practically perfect all the time. Yes, that stress definitely existed, and the fact that things had been going smoother recently was not nearly enough to negate it. The fact remained that – apart from the occasional ‘boinking the undead’ cracks – her friends saw her as the model of a good Slayer, ‘the straight-laced one’, and every now and again a break was welcome. Right now, she was feeling pretty damn hot. She wasn’t about to admit, but Faith had a good point about getting a certain predatory pleasure from Slaying. Also about the horny part, though she’d never admit to that one.

Speaking of which … a familiar tingle in the pit of her stomach made her turn away from crowd of dancers to spot Angel lurking in the entryway. This was turning out to be a very good day. Catching his hesitant expression, she bounced over.

“Hey,” she greeted him cheerfully. “You’re not leaving, are you?” She jumped up, draping her arms over his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist.

“I saw you making friends,” he said hesitantly.

She barely spared a glance back at the random guys Faith was still flirting madly with. _Heh. Like any of them could ever even hold my attention._ “Them? Boys,” she said dismissively. “I like _you_.” She wriggled slightly against him, because tormenting her boyfriend was _fun_.

But he was struggling not to show any response, gently pushing her away. Reluctantly she dropped off of him, half-teasing, half-disappointed as she asked, “What’s the matter? You’re not afraid of little me, are ya?”

“We’d better sit down. Come on,” he said tightly. She knew that tone, the one that said he was tempted but sorely trying to remain serious.

So she allowed him to pull her by the hand through the crowd to the quieter seating area, even as she pouted, “I can see this is a business trip.” _Damn it! Why do the forces of evil always have to interfere with my social life?_ However, she tried not to let her frustration show, and to keep her mind on the matter at hand. “What’s the what?”

“Balthasar,” Angel replied simply.

“Dead demon,” Buffy murmured, rubbing against him as she sat down beside him.

He once more disentangled himself from her. She let him, contenting herself with leaning against his shoulder.

“Not as dead as you might think,” he cautioned. “Word on the street puts him in the packing warehouse on Devereau. He’s looking for – ”

“His amulet,” Buffy cut in. She knew _this_ one. “It’s the supposed to restore his strength.”

“From what I’m hearing, that’s not something we’d like to see,” Angel said.

She smiled. “No problem. We got the amulet.”

“I know,” he replied. “I spoke to Giles, but he said you gave it – ”

Their conversation was interrupted by Wesley’s appearance. “Ah, there you are,” he said.

“Ah, speak of the really annoying guy,” Buffy muttered.

Wesley seemed not to notice the comment. “You’re certainly giving me a run for my money. I think we need to establish that if you’re going to go out Slaying, you leave me a number where I can contact you,” he scolded her in an urgent whisper.

“Where’s the amulet?” Angel cut in.

Wesley looked over at him, startled. “Who are you?”

_Ooh, my turn to be cryptic,_ Buffy thought gleefully. “A friend. Do you have it?”

“It’s somewhere safe,” Wesley said reluctantly.

_Yeah, right,_ Buffy thought as she noticed something suspicious looking. She reached into the Watcher’s jacket and pulled out the item in question.

“How did you know?” Wesley asked, taken aback.

Buffy smirked. “It pooches your jacket.” She held up the amulet triumphantly, and casually tossed it to Angel, who neatly plucked it out of the air.

“Now, wait a minute – ” Wesley protested.

“Walking around with this thing is like wearing a target,” Angel warned.

Buffy turned back to him. “You’ll put this somewhere safe that’s actually safe?” she said. _Much better in the hands of the one I actually trust._

“Yeah. I’ll – ” Angel began.

Buffy cut him off. “Great. Faith and I’ll do recon on Balthasar later tonight.”

“If I may … Balthasar is dead. Am I the only one who remembers that?” Wesley asked. Stifling the urge to roll her eyes, Buffy chose to ignore the comment, and eventually the Watcher just walked away in confusion.

“Later tonight? Wouldn’t it be safer to take care of this right away?” Angel asked.

“I think the situation’s pretty well under control. A few hours isn’t going to change anything,” Buffy countered.

“Yeah, I get that. Just, what’s the point in waiting?” Angel asked again, standing up.

Buffy stood as well, and closed the space between them in a single step, pressing herself against him. “Because we’ve been talking shop quite long enough, and now you’re going to take me back to the mansion…,” she trailed off, leaving the rest of the statement implicit in the suggestive tone of her voice that could leave no question about her intentions, and in the passionate kiss she punctuated the statement with.

Her reasoning was simple. _There’s no immediate danger; I can save the world from demonic nasties perfectly well later. I’ve done plenty already today, I’m feeling edgy, and I need some time off. Now, I’m getting laid._

It was to be the last quiet night. There was no way she could have known in advance, but it soon became clear that Evil had begun gearing up for apocalypse season and trouble had moved in to stay for a time. If she could have known, though … she would’ve done it exactly the same. Better to savor the time while they had it.

Angel seemed to consider for a moment, before giving in to the temptation of following desire. “Works for me,” he said. His tone was teasingly flippant, but she could see that his chocolate eyes were darkened with the heat of desire.

She rose up on her tiptoes to drape her arms around his neck, and molded her body to his, rubbing herself against him. “Well, you want it, lover? …Come and get it,” she tauntingly challenged. Then, with a giggle and a flip of her wavy blonde hair, she broke away and dashed out.

She’d reached the mansion by the time he caught up with her. He managed to take her by surprise, and she shrieked as he threw her over his shoulder. “You’ll pay for that one, lover,” he growled.

Relaxing slightly against him, she nipped playfully at his neck. “Just what I wanted.”

***

Buffy curled up on the sofa at the mansion, feeling miserable. She pulled a blanket over herself and sank into the cushions. She wasn’t entirely sure when it was she started crying, but the tears were rolling down her cheeks and she was powerless to stop them.

Funny how as little as two weeks ago everything seemed calm and smooth-running for once. As usual, when her life went to hell in a hand-basket, it did so with incredible speed and flair. And when big things went wrong, then the little things, background pains that normally were so easy to brush off, suddenly seemed so much more important, so it all piled up in an overwhelming litany of distress. Things kept going wrong in her freaky little world, and she always had to be the one to fix them.

And some days, it was just too much. The temptation of retreating into herself was strong, a defense mechanism she’d learned long ago. Instead, because she didn’t truly want to be miserable, she went to the one place she felt safe and comforted, and let herself have the breakdown that had been threatening.

A gentle touch brought her out of her morose thoughts, and she reflexively snapped to alertness. “Angel! Ohmygod, you scared me.” She slumped back, suddenly feeling very stupid. She’d been so out of it she hadn’t even noticed him come in.

He sat down beside her, and she immediately scooted closer, laying her head in his lap. He stroked a hand over her hair, and asked her softly, “What’s wrong, Buffy?”

She gasped for air a few times, struggling to breathe between sobs. When she’d managed to regain her composure enough to speak, she said, “I don’t know where to start. It’s just … _everything_ … I have at least two separate lives that I’m expected to live at the same time, and they totally don’t mix, and I’m tired of always having to keep up pretenses…. Every time Will and Xander need advice they come running to me, and at the same time they’re always judging and jumping to conclusions about my actions, Mom’s starting to get all disapproving of my lifestyle again, I’m _so_ worried about Faith … I’m really glad the big crisis is over and we didn’t lose her like it looked like was going to happen, but she’s still even more distant than ever, and I keep wondering if we could’ve done more to reach her…. Now I have to deal with whatever the Mayor’s planning on top of all the usual demonic activity, and I don’t have a clue what to expect … I feel like I’m not safe anywhere, not really … everyone expects me to be strong all the time. They think I can take anything life throws at me, and not even falter. I can’t. I know I’m not normal, I can never be normal, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need the same support everyone else does. Being the Slayer makes me strong; it doesn’t make me perfect, and it doesn’t make me invincible. But my friends are all half-convinced it does. They think I’ll always be just fine, and because they’re counting on me to be, because they need me to be fine, I always have to act like I am. You’re the only one I can truly be myself around, who I don’t have to pretend for.” She dissolved into tears again, burying her face in his chest.

Angel just held her close and rubbed her back. “Shh,” he soothed. “It will be okay. I won’t lie to you, it’s not going to be easy, but you’ll get through this. It’s just a rough spot. Things will get better. And you know you can always count on me. I’ll always support you.”

Eventually Buffy’s tears subsided, and she quieted in his embrace. When she had more or less calmed, she looked up at her boyfriend and asked, “Why are you so perfect? Only freaky thing in my freaky world that makes sense anymore … don’t know what I’d do without you.” She really was grateful to have him there. He was the one who understood her best. He was the only one with strength to match hers, so she didn’t need to hold back with him, or worry about him in a fight. And it wasn’t only that he could handle himself, he belonged there. He was intimately acquainted with the night, part of the world of demons and darkness that it was her destiny to inhabit (or at least timeshare in). For all that her friends helped her with supernatural problems, it was not their world, and she had always regretted the loss of innocence they’d suffered from being brought into it, felt guilty that their connection with her had put them in such a position. But that world was Angel’s as much as it was hers. He was her equal and her opposite. Her soulmate … her lover.

She sighed, and snuggled closer to him. “I love you so much,” she murmured.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you too.”

She tilted her head up to capture his lips. The kiss deepened, but too soon he pulled back. Knowing him, he was probably trying to be gentle and not press her at a time like this.

Which was all well and good, only that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to forget the world for a while. She wanted to feel loved, safe, protected. She simply wanted to lose herself in him. “Please,” Buffy said. “Make me feel special. Make me feel _right_.”

“Always,” Angel replied softly. And he kissed her again, with a gentle passion, a reverent tenderness. There an intense spark between them, yes, but it was not the fire of lust, not this time. Rather, it was a deep, visceral need to connect with their mates, to take comfort in each other. She stretched out against him, cleaving herself to him, and he only pulled her closer.

“Make love to me, Angel,” she breathed. “I need you."


	6. Chapter Five: Noble Idiocy

_Early May (think the end of _Choices_)_

She was babbling a bit. Yes, she recognized that. Babbling tended to be Buffy’s automatic reaction to awkward situations that couldn’t be fixed by pummeling something. (Pummeling something, of course, being her other automatic reaction… which probably meant she had issues twice over. Oh well.)

She was absolutely incensed at the Mayor’s words. She was sick and tired of people judging and/or insulting her and Angel’s relationship. It was no one’s business but their own. And they’d managed to make it work, hadn’t they? But just when things were finally going well, someone or something always had to interfere. A thousand baby steps forward followed by one giant leap back, that seemed to be the way of it.

But what pissed Buffy off even more was that she knew such words got under Angel’s skin, far more than they affected her. The slight to herself wasn’t a big deal, but she could not forgive anything that hurt him. What had she said during the Order of Taraka incident last year? “You can attack me, you can send assassins after me, but no one messes with my boyfriend.” It was true then, and it was true today. And yes, that applied to verbal, mental attacks as well as physical. She knew well how inclined to self-doubt Angel was, and anything that sent him on a guilt trip was an enemy of hers.

Besides being in a rather irrational state of mind from all that, she was opting for distraction. Specifically, distracting Angel from brooding as well as distracting herself from unproductive rage. Hence the babbling.

Besides, she actually had news tonight. News of the exciting, ‘look, I can has _future_’ variety. So she continued to relate her plans for next year and college at UC Sunnydale. “It’s gonna be fun. Will and I are gonna go on Saturday to check out the campus. I’m hoping Mom will let me live there: it’s too far to come home every night. Plus the whole lack of cool factor. Either way, I’ll be close to your place.”

It wasn’t working. Her whole cheerful, distracto-girl plan was a bust. She suppressed a sigh as she noticed he was getting _that look_.

Okay, scrap that plan. It was time to address the issue straight on, see if she could get through to him. “I don’t know what the Mayor was talking about. How could he know anything about us?”

“Well, he’s evil,” Angel offered. Good sign number one. If she could keep going with this….

“Big time,” she agreed. “He doesn’t even know what a lasting relationship is.”

“No.”

“Probably the only lasting relationship he’s had is with … evil,” Buffy added, her voice an odd blend of scorn and optimism.

“Yeah.” Angel and his monosyllabic answers. Kinda annoying sometimes. Though she supposed she had more than enough babbling skills to carry the conversation.

“Big, stupid, evil guy,” she groused. So maybe schoolyard insults weren’t very classy. They about summed up how she felt right now. “We’ll be okay,” she added, all put-on bravado.

“We will,” Angel reassured her.

She should have said something like, “We always are.” Instead, she could barely manage a murmured assent as she leaned back against him. But she didn’t feel very okay, even as she reclined in her lover’s arms in the surprisingly quiet night. Strangely enough, she only felt … oddly foreboding.

***

Her premonition of badness was unfortunately right on. The shit hit the fan a few nights later. They were on patrol – chasing a vampire through the sewers, no less. She’d only _mentioned_ the coming Prom, and Angel was getting all touchy for some reason. Again.

She quickly staked the vamp they’d been after as it interrupted their conversation, and turned to her boyfriend. “I'm not being _that way_. Every time I say the word 'prom', you get grouchy.”

“I'm sorry. I'm just worried that you're getting too...invested in this whole thing,” Angel returned.

Buffy looked at him in exasperation. “What whole thing? Isn't this the stuff that I'm supposed to get invested in? Going to a formal, graduating, growing up.”

“I know,” he said.

Well, _that_ defied logic. “Then what? What's with the dire?”

“It's, uh, it's nothing,” he said dismissively.

“No, you have 'something' face,” she objected.

“I think we need to talk, but not now and not here,” he said.

“No. No, if you have something to say, then say it,” she insisted. After he remained silent for a minute, she pressed, “Angel, drop the cryptic. You're scaring me.”

“I've been thinking... about our future,” he admitted. “And the more I do, the more I feel like us, you and me being together, is unfair to you.”

She gaped at him. “Is this about what the Mayor said? Because he was just trying to shake us up.”

“He was right,” Angel said.

“No. No, he wasn't. He's the bad guy,” Buffy said, stunned and unbelieving.

“You deserve more,” Angel countered. “You deserve something outside of demons and darkness. You should be with someone who can take you into the light. Someone who will age with you.”

“I don’t care about that!” she exclaimed.

“You will. And children.”

“Children? Can you say jumping the gun? I kill my goldfish,” Buffy replied.

“Today,” he disagreed. “But you have no idea how fast it goes, Buffy. Before you know it, you'll want it all, a normal life.”

“I’ll never have a normal life,” Buffy replied.

“Right, you'll always be a Slayer. But that's all the more reason why you should have a real relationship instead of this, this freak show.” He stopped short. She looked at him in stunned silence, and he hastily backtracked as he realized what he’d said. “I didn't mean that.”

“I'm gonna go,” she huffed. She couldn’t believe he was saying this. She didn’t even know how to make him see another way. Was that really what he thought of them?

Angel grabbed her arm. “I'm sorry. Buffy, you know how much I love you. It kills me to say this.”

“Then don’t!” she said half-hysterically. “Who are you to tell me what's right for me? You think I haven't thought about this?”

“Have you, rationally?” he challenged.

At that, she seriously saw red. “No. No, of course not. I'm just some swoony little schoolgirl, right?” He seemed to be about to answer, but she cut him off before he could say something else idiotic to rip her heart apart. “Angel,” she snapped, “Would you stopping assuming you know my mind for one moment and actually listening to me? On occasion, I am mature enough to know my own mind.”

He stopped, shocked, at her sarcastic remark. “Okay,” she said. “Let me get this straight. You think it’s not right for me to be with you because you can’t give me sunlight, or children, or age with me. Right?” She didn’t pause for his reply. “That _might_ make a difference if I were a normal girl. But guess what? I’m not. I’ve come to terms with that. Aging? Besides the fact that you’ve got a good ten-year head start on me in that department, so it’s not going to be an issue for a good long while yet, face it, my life expectancy is rather limited. Slayers simply don’t make it to retirement age. And I’ve already died once; what are the chances I’ll get so lucky next time? Kids? Wouldn’t be able to have them anyway. Even in the unlikely event that I’d be able to survive being vulnerable and not in fighting condition for nine months, they’d be too much of a liability. You remember when that crazy vamp kidnapped my mom? It would be even easier for someone to use my children against me. Oh, and sunlight? First off, it’s not like I can’t go into the day by myself. Hello, been doing it for years; it’s part of that whole double life thing I’ve got going. Besides, I half to spend half my time in the darkness anyways; I’ve got a sacred duty to fulfill. Any other excuses you’d like to throw at me?”

Apparently he didn’t know when to stop, for he replied, “Your life is already messed up. That’s all the more reason you should be able to have someone normal.”

Her eyes flashed. “Someone normal? I’ve tried that, and it’s nothing more than a great way to get relationship issues. A normal guy is a guy who would wonder why I have to be gone so many nights, who would be suspicious of my commitments. A normal guy is someone who would have inadequacy issues about my being so freakishly strong. A normal guy is someone who would get himself killed trying to help me. A normal guy is someone who I would have to keep secrets from, or bear the guilt of bringing them into my dangerous world, like with my friends. I can’t tell you how much I regret their loss of innocence. A normal guy wouldn’t understand me, not really.” Her voice softened, turned almost pleading. “You understand me. You belong here, like I do. Slaying bound me to the night, and I can’t help that. But, Angel, you make the night worthwhile.”

“You say that now,” Angel replied. “But you don’t know how you’ll feel in a few years.”

“Right,” she snarked. “Of course. Because Buffy is an incompetent little girl who doesn’t know her own mind. I’m 18. I’m old enough to vote, old enough to join the army. I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions about my life. And I’m thinking I’ve had to grow up faster than most people anyways. Or doesn’t putting my life on the line for the past years count for anything? Doesn’t always having to rely on myself alone because I have to protect everyone around me mean anything? Does it sound like I haven’t thought hard about this? I know things aren’t perfect, can never be perfect, but the way they are suits me just fine. I want my life to be with you!”

He was wavering, but not truly swayed. “I don’t know, Buffy. I just don’t know. I need to think about this.”

“Well, fine, if you’re so convinced that _us_ isn’t right…. If I can’t convince you, I don’t know what can, so I might as well not bother sticking around.” She turned on her heel and stalked away. She needed to get away before she broke down crying.


	7. Chapter Six: We Now Return To Our Regularly Scheduled Fluff

_Prom Night_

Buffy twirled the shiny pink umbrella idly between her fingers and smoothed down her prized rose sheath dress as she surveyed the crowd. Hellhounds? Big check in the ‘Slayed’ column. Friends? Having the time of their lives. The evening? Gone off without a hitch.

And herself? Suffering major pangs of self-pity as she found herself once more on the outside looking in at those who were supposed to be her peers. _There goes my one perfect high school moment._ And she felt even worse for being all self-pitying at a time like this, but she was way tired of always watching what she couldn’t have. She slapped on her Happy Buffy face, but it was seriously slipping.

“You did good work tonight, Buffy.” She turned at the voice behind her, to see Giles approach.

She smiled at the compliment, and held up the umbrella. “And I got a little toy surprise,” she replied with forced cheerfulness.

Giles chuckled. “I had no idea children en masse could be gracious,” he observed.

“Every now and then people surprise you,” she noted.

“Every now and then,” Giles echoed softly, amazedly. He was looking past her, and Buffy followed his gaze to see what was so impressive.

And there was Angel, standing in the doorway and starting through the crowd towards her. She was hardly even aware of Giles taking her umbrella prize from her hands and taking his leave, only of making her way across the room to meet her lover.

“I never thought you’d come,” she breathed incredulously.

“It’s a big night. I didn’t want to miss it,” he replied.

“You’re here. You’re really here,” she murmured, still not quite able to believe it.

“Well,” Angel said, “I realized you had some pretty good points. And I realized I _couldn’t_ leave you.”

“Good, because I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She stretched a bittersweet smile over her face.

“I don’t think I’d be much of anything without you either,” he admitted. “I just… I wanted better things for you.”

“I know,” Buffy replied. “But I have _I_ want. Don’t you see, Angel, normalcy is overrated. I need my freaky love to go with my freaky life.”

“I think I’m starting to get that,” he acknowledged. “As long as you’re happy….”

“I am now,” she assured him. Then she laughed ruefully. “And the gang will probably be a bit relieved too. I, uh, kinda went all drill sergeant on them.” After a moment she added softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “Hey, any way to cope….” It was, as much a pained reflection, a reminder that all was not forgiven.

Awkward silence fell for a moment. Then he held out a hand to her. “Dance with me?”

Right. Dance. That thing you do at Prom. Which she’d completely forgotten she was at, what with her lover’s unexpected return and the sorting out of their life. Okay, bearing regained. Dancing now.

She gladly cleaved herself to him, molded herself against his large body. Now _this_ was the sense of home, of completion, that she’d been missing. Nothing ever felt so incredibly right as being enfolded in his strong arms. The crowd around them on the dance floor, the whole setting, seemed to fade away, until she was only aware of the two of them, dancing close, to the music that seemed almost ironically appropriate.

_Wild, wild horses couldn’t drag me away…._

***

They immediately returned to routine. Just like normal – only with a shiny new pervasive awkwardness that she didn’t like one bit. They hadn’t been this uncomfortable in months. She couldn’t shake the slight fear that he would pull something idiotic like that again, couldn’t quite seem to trust fully.

That is, until he presented a truly impressive peace offering. It was a few days later, and, after patrol, the end of the evening found them back at the mansion.

“The other night,” Angel began tentatively, “you were talking about what you were going to do next year.”

“Mmhm,” Buffy acknowledged, settling herself on top of him on the couch as she waited for him to continue.

“You were talking about whether to stay at home or live in the dorms.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly, wondering where he was going with this.”

“Well, I was wondering if… maybe, instead of that….” He was getting all nervous and flustered. Now she was even more curious: cryptic she was used to, flustered she was not.

“I was wondering if you might like to move in with me,” he finally finished.

_Ohmygod!_ Whatever she’d been expecting, that definitely wasn’t it. She wanted to squeal in delight, but that didn’t seem very mature. She always felt self-conscious about appearing immature in front of Angel. Instead, she asked incredulously, “Really?”

“Of course,” he said. “If you want to, I mean.”

“Of course I want to!” she exclaimed.

She sighed as a sudden thought occurred to her. “My mom isn’t gonna like this.” After a minute, however, her face took on a resolute set. “Well, she’s just going to have to deal with it. Legally I’m an adult now, and she doesn’t get to make my decisions for me anymore,” she declared.

Despite the happiness of the moment, neither of them was quite sure what to say next. The playful part of her wanted to tease him about overcoming fear of commitment – come on, he’d looked so nervous not so long ago when she simply mentioned having a _drawer_ – but the more sensible side of her mind knew that could be a very bad idea. In light of recent events, even a joking mention of the subject would be likely to strike a nerve. And she was firmly against nerve-striking. Nerve-striking _bad_. And so not the way to create a comfortable atmosphere. …Now she was babbling in her head. Must stop that. Babble-age also bad.

“Actually, probably be more convenient this way. No more sneaking in so Mom doesn’t know when I’ve been out all night. And less need to keep regular hours on top of staying up late for patrol. …And, ya know, I obviously like the idea of being around you all the time. I figured that was pretty much a given. You knew that was meant to be obvious, ri- Mmph! …Mmm.” Now she was babbling out loud, too. Or at least she was until he flipped her over so she was facing him, and shut her up in the most expedient and pleasant way – by capturing her lips in a kiss.

“Now, what were you saying?” Angel asked teasingly, echoing an earlier day when she’d been babbling in a similar way.

Remembering the same incident, Buffy replied the same as she had then. “I’m sorry, we were talking?”

He just gave her a half-smirk and kissed her again.

She melted into the kiss. _Beats talking any day,_ she decided.


	8. Epilogue: Life Goes On ... Now With Added Happies

She’d never thought she’d use words like _idyllic_ to describe her life, but this summer, that term seemed more apt than she’d ever dared to hope.

It was odd, but the Hellmouth seemed to run on a seasonal cycle. May was serious apocalypse season, and February to a lesser extent. Evil had a tendency of building throughout the winter. And summer tended to be the quietest time. She didn’t see any reason why it should work like that (nor, for that matter, why it was that trouble tended to happen on Tuesdays), but she chalked it up to ‘the Hellmouth is bizarre and inexplicable’ and didn’t bother too much about it. Anyway, she’d probably feel different come winter, but right now, when she could practically go through her patrols in her sleep, she wasn’t about to complain.

She’d moved into the mansion shortly after graduation. Unsurprisingly, her mother had been less than pleased, but this was one matter on which Buffy refused to budge. Eventually, Joyce had to concede there wasn’t anything she could do about it, and the most she could do was to content herself that her daughter was happy. For there could be no mistaking that Buffy was happy – no, make that downright ecstatic – to be living with her lover.

As was typical of a teenager (and she had more reason than most), each day after school let out, she gradually got up later each morning and turned in later each night. After a week or two, she finally said to herself _what the heck_; she had to be out at night anyways, so what was the point in trying to get up at a ‘normal’ time and stretch her waking hours past the point of comfort when she didn’t need to? So she simply shifted around her sleep schedule to be essentially nocturnal. It was just one more way that she was settling in. It didn’t take her long to adjust, and soon enough she had a comfortable routine. For once things seemed relatively easy; the biggest issues she had to deal with were picking classes for college in the fall, and trying to determine whether what was evening and what was morning were redefined when one was nocturnal.

When Buffy awoke, the feeling of silk sheets against her bare skin alerted her immediately to where she was. Only Angel had silk sheets. (Also, she didn’t sleep nude at home – no, her mother’s house; this was home now. Not that she didn’t feel at home here, she was more than comfortable, she just couldn’t quite believe she was actually living here. Nearly a month, and she was still in awe – but that was beside the point.) It was decadent, yes, but she’d discovered quickly that Angel had a very tactile nature. The shirts she so liked to steal from him (hey, a girl’s gotta have a hobby) also tended to be of particularly fine fabrics. He’d admitted once that those were his indulgences.

She’d also discovered that there was a great sensual pleasure simply in slipping between soft, smooth sheets. She feared she was becoming spoiled.

Of course, such a pleasure was nothing compared to that simply of having her lover’s cool body beside her. But that was a pleasure she had to forgo for the moment. She’d learned to stop worrying about waking up alone; Angel was nearly always up before her. At first he made an effort to stick around as she was still fighting the insecurities left over from the previous year. Now she understood that getting up at the crack of dusk was how he worked, and she wasn’t about to give up her lazy teenager prerogative of sleeping in.

Speaking of said prerogative…. Buffy yawned and wondered if she could get away with sleeping an hour or two more. She turned to the window and pulled back the heavy, dark drapes at one side, looking out over the town. The sun had sunk halfway down the horizon, but there was still a little while left before full dark. She pulled the drapes closed and, feeling lazy, decided she could afford a bit more time.

The next time she awoke, she was brought gradually back to consciousness by the sensation of a gentle hand running over her hair. She sleepily rolled closer to her lover. She felt so relaxed and comfortable, she didn’t want to get up, didn’t even want to open her eyes.

“Angel?” she murmured.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“Not really. ‘Sides, I can’t think of a nicer way to wake up,” she replied, stifling a yawn and opening her eyes halfway. “Don’ be sorry.”

“You just looked so peaceful sleeping like that. I couldn’t resist,” he said.

She smiled, content for the moment to bask in his affection. Then she stretched, and rubbed at bleary eyes. “How late’s’it?” she mumbled semi-coherently.

Fortunately, he knew how to translate her sleepy-talk. “A little after eight,” he replied.

“M’kay,” Buffy said. She considered for a moment. “Told the guys we’d show at the Bronze … probably don’t have to be there till nine, nine-thirty, so no real rush….”

He laughed, recognizing the leading statement, and softly tapped her head. “What are you thinking?”

She gave him an innocent, pouty look. Then she reached out, clasping his large hand in her smaller one. “Come to bed?”

“Of course, beloved,” he replied softly.

***

Buffy wandered through a crowd that was, in her opinion, entirely too big. Looking around for some way of getting her bearings, she spotted a familiar red head and ran to catch up.

“Buffy, hey!” Willow greeted her.

“Oh boy, am I glad to see you,” Buffy said. “It is way too early for my brain to function.”

Willow laughed. “It’s past one p.m., Buffy.”

“I know. It’s too early,” the Slayer repeated.

“Whatever you say, vampire-hours girl,” Willow teased. “Isn’t this cool? There’s so much going on.” She enthusiastically gestured around the campus quad.

Buffy couldn’t help smiling at her friend’s enthusiasm for the college experience, but personally she was just feeling overwhelmed. “Yeah. Almost, one might say, too much.”

Willow hardly noticed, continuing excitedly, “I got all my courses … except for ‘Modern Poetry’, I had to switch to ‘Ethnomusicology’. But that’s cool, West-African drumming, I think it’s going to change everything. I haven’t got my roommate yet, I hope she’s cool.”

“I hope your roommate’s cool too, Will,” Buffy smiled. “But I’ve gotta say, I’m kinda glad I don’t have worry about that.”

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Willow teased.

Buffy laughed, then took a deep breath, “Okay, let’s do this. On to the next great adventure.” She noticed the fliers in Willow’s hands. “Ooh, I see you got ticketed too.”

“Yes!” Willow agreed. “I’ve heard about five different issues, and I’m angry about them all. What’d you get?”

Chatting happily, the friends headed off, confident they could handle whatever life threw at them.


End file.
